


Without You

by alongenglandseastcoastline



Category: The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel - Michael Scott
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Or Does It, So much angst, no it does, this has a happy ending tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:01:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28514628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alongenglandseastcoastline/pseuds/alongenglandseastcoastline
Summary: When a secret from Perenelle's past surfaces, Nicholas is forced to question his marriage more than he thought he ever would. Set in 1880/1881.
Relationships: Nicholas Flamel/Perenelle Flamel (Nicholas Flamel)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 9





	Without You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hatshepslut](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hatshepslut/gifts).



_Come back into the good life_   
_Lose these hazy love lines_   
_I've been chasing my mind_   
_Lonely in the cold nights_

_Cause I’m kicking up stones without you_   
_Can't pick up the phone without you_   
_I'm a little bit lost without you_   
_Without you_   
_\- Oh Wonder, Without You_

**London, January 1881**  
Nicholas hated it. The feeling of loneliness and something just being… wrong. He had spent the last few weeks in his laboratory, thinking his work might distract him but in reality he had spent more time feeling awful than actually conducting his work. The Alchemyst had made some progress, academically speaking: He had set up several experiments, added hundreds of pages to his journals but he wasn’t really drawn to any of it. After his first great discovery - the colour change of copper when exposed to a specific mixture of liquids - on his third day, he had turned around to call for Perenelle so she could confirm his suspicions but realised with a drop in his stomach that only the darkness of the cellar was there to keep him company. Nicholas slowly descended into misery. He had closed all the curtains in the house after the first day because he couldn’t bear to see the sunlight and hadn’t seen anyone except for the housekeeper of their country house in which he was currently staying in. The woman had been confused when he asked her to take care of the house and him for the next weeks shortly before Christmas. However, the promise of good pay and a short shake of his head when she asked about the whereabouts of his wife had silenced her on the matter. It was the middle of January now and Nicholas felt worse with every day. His mind seemed to be clouded, his famous patience replaced by restlessness. He had gotten up late after a night of light sleep, had eaten a few bites and then staggered down the stairs to check the progress of his latest experiment. His mind, however, wandered back to the day that had changed his life…

  
It was an afternoon in December, the winter sun high at the sky. Perenelle had gone out to get some presents for the upcoming holidays. He was excited about the letter he had received in the morning: One of his papers had been accepted into an academic journal and he was quite proud of himself. He decided to read it again carefully to make sure only the best results he was capable of were being published. He wandered around their apartment, trying to find a book while reading over a particularly difficult passage in his manuscript. He passed the drawer with the wooden case. It was one of the few possessions that had been with them for all their immortal lives. It was in the nature of things that the Flamels had gone through a lot of furniture, clothes and other items, either because they broke down or the trends and fashions changed, and the couple with them. Besides the Codex, there were very few things they had kept from their mortal lives. Nicholas had of course known about the small wooden box and taken a few looks inside it whenever his wife happened to open it in his presence. He had never thought about opening it himself and he certainly never would have done so on purpose. The box contained letters and drawings that Perenelle treated with extraordinary care. It was the only belonging that always travelled on her body when they moved, just as he would carry the Codex from one home to the next. Then, it happened. Nicholas was too focused on the paper in his hand to notice the drawer in front of him: He walked right into it, hurting his foot and forcing him to let out a loud French curse. The box fell from the corner of the drawer, opened up and all its contents spread out over the carpet. He was about to carefully place everything back and already had a letter in his hand when his gaze fell onto a small piece of paper. Not bigger than the palm of his hand, it featured the drawing of a foot. He knew he wasn’t supposed to look at it but his notorious curiosity was winning the fight. Instinctively, Nicholas picked up the paper and held it up into the dusty rays of winter sunlight that fell into the drawing room through the window to get a better look at it. After a moment, he realised it was not a drawing. The shape - not even half as long as the smallest of his fingers - was a print of a foot, small stains and little lines on the paper showing that ink-coated skin had touched the paper. Just one word was written under the imprint, in Perenelle’s small, neat cursive handwriting: Cateline. The Alchemyst shook his head confusedly, trying to make sense of his discovery until he finally realised why the card might belong to his wife’s most valuable possessions.  
In that moment, he heard the door open and his wife approaching from the door. He turned around and slowly stood up, the questioning look still on his face, the piece of paper loosely in his hand. Nicholas stood up slowly. “Is this… what I think it is?”, he asked carefully, turning the paper towards her. Perenelle froze right there on the spot. After a few seconds that stretched like eternities she slowly set down the box she was carrying and finally answered: “Yes”, not meeting his gaze. “When.” It was one simple question. He had to know, right now. “We had had the book for maybe… five or six years. It was a decade… before we successfully made the elixir.” Nicholas was silent for a moment before throwing the next question at her while trying to contain the anger that started to boil inside him. “Why didn’t you tell me?” “It’s not like you could have changed it.” His mind seemed to race at a hundred miles an hour, partly digesting the information in real time, partly still in shock and denial of his discovery. “But don’t you think I had a right to know? As a- father.” The word passed his lips slowly, as if the idea was too absurd. “That- child… don’t you think I at least had a right to know about it?” His voice grew louder with every word. “I-“ He stopped, shook his head in disbelief, the questions unfolding one by one, hurt and anger making their way through every word “To me they will forever be a vague idea… but you got to know about them. Feel them even-“. “Yes.”, Perenelle snapped, fury finding its way into her voice, meeting his eyes for the first time. “And I felt my useless body failing to do its job.” The hatred in her voice to pierced right into his heart. “The one task every woman is built for. And I, apparently, was not. The girl didn’t grow inside of me until she was old enough to live, never got the chance.” Silence. But only for a moment before her tone shifted. “Do you know what it felt like? The sharp stabbing pain deep inside of me-“ she was spitting the words out by now- “it was nothing against the agony of knowing what had just happened.” She looked like she had waited centuries to finally let these thoughts leave her mind. And she had.  
He was silent for a few moments. “I just think-“ She was fed up with it. “Nicholas, it’s was ages ago. What difference does it make? We knew children had been a bad idea right from the start. We knew it. We discussed it, again and again. It was either pursuing the path to immortality or live a mortal life. And we chose one of the options, with all the consequences”. Nicholas turned away, knelled down to put the paper back in the box and slapped the lid down, the loud noise ringing through the room, before standing up and facing her again: “That doesn’t mean this hurts any less!” Perenelle sighed and ran her hands over her face, suddenly looking tired. “Yes. And maybe somewhere there is some sort of alternative world out there where versions of us did not decide that. Where we declined the book, never thought about it again. Had a family, pursued our life as scholars and died of old age surrounded by our children and grandchildren. We will never know! So why should we even think about it!” His wife threw her hands up in the air in frustration. He shook his head in disbelief. “That’s not all though! What really matters is that YOU. DIDN’T. TELL. ME.” The Alchemyst pronounced every word meticulously, rage fading from his voice, replaced with bitterness, getting quieter with each step he took in her direction until he finally looked at her eye to eye, finally seeing right into them. He whispered now. “But it is not just a vision, is it? Because at some point in time, in reality, not in some- fever dream! There was a child.” His voice broke. “A girl, with a beating heart. Our child. And I never knew.” Perenelle’s heart ached but she grew more irritated by her husband. “What difference does it make!? We’re going in circles.” Nicholas finally took a few steps back and brought some distance between them. “It’s just that- I thought we were partners. We agreed. That we can only survive if there is nothing between us but absolute trust. We made a commitment when we accepted the book. And now I find out you hid something from me even before we became immortal? Is there anything else you kept from me?” Perenelle shook her head angrily and opened her mouth but was interrupted again before she could speak: “Just tell me- how I will I EVER TRUST YOU AGAIN?” He had shouted the final words at her. A sharp pain settled in her chest and she moved back further to the door, eyes wide open and unable to stop looking at him. She had overstepped his boundaries, she felt it. The pain in her chest got worse and rage started to race through her veins. “Maybe we never should’ve done this.” He was stunned, she could see it. She knew she was about to say some of the things that were locked away deep inside of her. That only came back into her mind in her darkest moments. But the walls surrounding her heart had crumbled and the wave of ugly truths was now seeping out with force. “Maybe, just maybe, we just shouldn’t have done this. We are unnatural, Nicholas, and some days I wonder if this is a price worth paying. We were supposed to be born, live and die. Be buried in the ground by our descendants and die with our friends, with our family, to be buried with everything our time stood for. Nicholas, we have seen children whose great-great-great-grandchildren now walk the earth. Do you never feel like we should not have messed with the natural order of things? That there is a punishment for this?” “What do you mean? Do you regret getting to spend hundreds of years with me instead of the short lifetime we were given? If you regret spending your life with me, just say so. If you regret the… the centuries we had together because of that UNNATURAL thing. Just… say it right away. Do not hide behind these excuses. You don’t hate your immortal life, you hate the fact you have to spend it with me. You would’ve told me about our daughter-“ His voice broke briefly but he quickly composed himself again-“if you loved me. Or was it different? Was I just a means for your goal? You’re a powerful sorceress. Arguably more powerful than I can ever be. But you didn’t have the patience to figure out the Codex and achieve immortality!” Perenelle took a deep breath, raised her hands and opened her mouth just to be interrupted by Nicholas stepping further and further into her comfort zone again until her back reached the wall and pushed into the doorframe painfully. His voice wasn’t more than a whisper now. “I would’ve done anything for you. I thought I could trust you. I thought you… loved me unconditionally but right now, I doubt just about everything. If you have kept something like this, then… I… need space.” He rubbed his hands over his face and suddenly looked like he hadn’t slept for a long time. He finally moved away from her but the Sorceress was too paralysed to move. He left the room, while Perenelle remained frozen still, trying to process the argument that just occurred seemingly out of nowhere. She heard him packing and just like that, he was out of the door. He didn’t look at her again, not once.

  
That was how he had ended up in their country house, without his wife. Wandering upstairs only to sleep and rarely to eat the meals the housekeeper brought in every morning, he spent his days reading to keep his mind off things. As he was crossing into the kitchen, Nicholas noticed something unusual. Instead of a new meal, he found a note underneath the food he hadn’t touched from the day before. “Sir, this might be the last time I will be able to deliver in a few days. I did bring some supplies so you should be fine. I will be back as soon as the weather allows it. Take care - Mary” He furrowed his brows. What circumstances was the housekeeper talking about? He moved to the nearest window and opened the curtains. Nicholas’ eyes immediately hurt from the great light exposure and he cursed himself for not leaving the house in a few days. After a while, the pain lessened and slowly the blurry shapes in front of his eyes became sharper. He could see the river and the church tower, covered deeply in snow. The Alchemyst realised the great fire in the fireplace that usually was more than enough to heat the small house wasn’t giving off enough warmth now to keep his fingers from shaking. Absentmindedly, he took a quick look at the pile of unread newspapers and realised in shock that it was time to brew the immortality potion again. The immortality potion- Perenelle. Nicholas closed his eyes, trying to force the dam inside his mind to hold back the deep abyss of pain and hurt from flooding his consciousness. It didn’t work. He hadn’t planned to see her again, but this was a necessary errand. He removed the book from its bag. Even the careful, neat stitching of thread on the seam reminded him of her. Nicholas shook his head angrily: He would get this done and then return to this place.  
After a few hours of work, the Alchemyst carefully closed a glass vial and put it in his leather bag. He went downstairs and crossed the small strip of grass to his neighbour’s house. He had seen kids play there and he was sure they would deliver the vial for him, giving he would pay them. The weather was terrible, the clock on his wall had let him know it was 3pm but it was so dark one could think it was night time already. Nicholas was shivering, he wasn’t properly dressed for this type of weather. The wind was horrible. Howling, like a wave of cold water, it immediately numbed the right side of his face. The Alchemyst knocked and impatiently waited for an answer. His neighbour, a tall man at around forty, opened the door. “How can I help you?” He asked Nicholas suspiciously. “You’ve been staying there for a few days… haven’t seen much of you.” “Please excuse me.” Nicholas said and forced a smile. “I am a doctor and have read about a very mysterious illness for quite a while now. I have now developed a cure for a patient that needs to be delivered immediately. Maybe one of your boys would be up for it?” The man seemed less suspicious now, but he still shook his head. “Haven’t you looked outside? The weather is already terrible and it will get worse. I just pray no one breaks a leg in this awful weather. I fear you will have to find another way.” With that, he smiled apologetically and closed the door. Nicholas sighed.  
The Alchemyst had often been glad about his abilities and gifts when he was able to protect himself or defeat enemies who wished to do him harm. This was one of the rare occasions when he had to protect himself against nature. The neighbour had been right- no mortal could go out in this weather, let alone across half the city by foot. Nicholas smiled. Good thing he wasn’t mortal then. He had put on his thickest winter coat, scarf and gloves even though none of that was strictly necessary. His aura was thinly covering his body, green smoke rising from the heavy wool fabric. He used as little energy as possible, but it was necessary to keep him warm. He very carefully opened his hand a bit further to direct his aura slightly differently and melt the snow more efficiently. He had chosen to leave right after sunset, which had just meant a complete descent into darkness. Visibility was near zero and no men or dog was out on the streets. Even residents looking out their windows wouldn’t have seen a thing- the low green light of his aura was nearly invisible in the thick whirl of snowflakes and the scent of fresh peppermint was washed away by the strong wind. Nicholas was glad he had an exceptional memory, but even he had to be very careful to turn onto the right streets, all the while wondering what the confrontation with his wife would be like. He knew deep down that the ties to his wife weren’t completely broken off, but the drift between them was substantial. He was now sorry for some of the things he had said but the hurt about being lied to was still deeply rooted in his soul. The Alchemyst was slowly pressing on, the snow had created hanging statues of ice from the ongoing East wind. The entire left side of his face felt as if someone was constantly spraying cold water right in his face. He felt the wind finding its way through all the layers of his clothing and slowly increased the thickness of his aura around his body. Finally, he crossed into their borough of London.  
Nicholas was surprised when he turned around a corner and saw someone standing at the other end of the street. He could barely see anything through the snowstorm, but the familiar red wool cloak was the only touch of colour in the whole street, everything else had been covered in white fluffy snow or ice, untouched yet by carriages or pedestrians that would disturb the peace come daylight. The person stood still, the gusts of wind moving the cloak. Finally, it tore down the hood and before she could pull it over her head again and duck herself into the wind to continue walking against the wind, Nicholas had recognised his wife. Her braid, which was being hold together at the back of her head with a piece of jewellery, had given it away. He would have recognised the silver pin with a white cistus flower anywhere. It had been handcrafted by an artist in central London when Perenelle had become more nostalgic than usual for the place she grew up after meeting a young man from the Bretagne and talking to him for an hour in the street. She was crying for days on end and Nicholas had tried to comfort her and asked her how he could remind her of her home. She had simply smiled through her tears: “After half a millennium, home is wherever you are.”  
He took another step and hurried along the street, trying to follow his wife. After so much time apart, it was agony to be close to her, to see her but not touch her. He didn’t know what he would do once he’d reach her. His instincts told him to follow her, to give her the potion that seemed to burn in his bag and leave her. She was about to cross the street and turned around to have a look behind her despite the deserted streets, catching a glance at him. Their eyes locked for a brief moment and the Alchemyst saw an array of emotions passing over her face in a matter of seconds before she turned and hurried down the street corner, faster than before. She was slipping on the path, trying to almost run on the ice. He called out to her, uncertain if she was ignoring him or if the howling wind was carrying his voice away into the opposite direction. They had arrived at a small square now and he had nearly caught up to her. She was stubbornly refusing to look behind her now. Nicholas was getting angrier, what was this ridiculous chase supposed to be? It was already suicide to be out in this weather at all but running across the snowy, slippery street was foolish. Just as he had finished that thought, the inevitable happened.

Nicholas called out her name and was sure this time she had heard him, he was so close now. His wife turned around, her right foot immediately losing its grip on the uneven cobble stone ground. The Sorceress didn’t know exactly how it happened, but all she saw a second later was the dark sky above her, the stars drowned out by the city lights. She instinctively moved to get up but noticed something was off. Her right arm wouldn’t obey her, her elbow and lower arm flipping around underneath her cloak. She didn’t even feel the pain in the first second, her breathing too fast and her adrenaline levels too high. Nicholas finally reached his wife, kneeling onto the cold ground beside her. The small plaza was barely lit by the small gas lights by the sides of the fountain they were now next to. He could see his wife was gritting her teeth, either out of pain or out of annoyance of seeing him again. “Let me help you.” He said and carefully lifted up the cloak from her right arm to examine it, wrapping the remaining fabric around her left hand. He shook his head while doing so. “Your hands are freezing, as always. Why didn’t you wear gloves?” Perenelle didn’t say anything. Staring at the ground, she turned her face away from him. Nicholas pulled the thick wool tighter around her hand, trying not to touch her skin, afraid she’d move her hand away. He finally had a look at his wife’s arm, which was trembling and moving uncontrollably. “It’s broken. I’d say in two places by the looks of it.” “Brilliant.” She finally said, spitting out the words. “Utterly brilliant. This really was exactly what I needed right now.” The Alchemyst let out a sigh. “Let’s deal with this first and then get home, alright?” “I can deal with this myself.” Not wanting to argue, he stayed silent. He waited for his wife to heal the fracture with her own aura, as she had done countless times before. She was shivering, he realised, while he was uncomfortable but embraced by the warmth of his own aura. He took a closer look at this wife’s face, noticed the unnaturally pale colour of her skin, the violet rings under her eyes, lines around her eyes that usually weren’t there, silver strands of hair, more prominent than usual. He noticed she was staring at her arm, white bands forming at her fingertips and disappearing again, not healing the bones like he expected. “Perenelle.” He said suddenly, the name passing his lips with some difficulty. “When was the last time you ate? Properly rested and slept for a whole night?” She pursed her lips and shook her head, looking away from him again. He tried to talk some sense into her: “You know, sometimes people don’t have to solve everything by themselves. They can accept help from others. They don’t have to go through their suffering alone if-“ “I thought we were NOT going to do this here.” Nicholas decided to ignore that last remark and took her left hand, manifesting his aura, engulfing her hand in its pure, warm energy. He concentrated on their intertwined hands, his warm palm touching her smaller one with cold skin and shaking fingers. The green bands of smoke slowly encircled her arm, wrapping over her entire body like a second cloak. The smell of peppermint filled the air. His voice wasn’t more than a whisper now. “Look, I’m sorry. I’m not proud of everything I said. But you’re right, this conversation can wait. I just want to make sure you know I’m sorry.” Perenelle nodded slowly and, after a moment, looked at her arm again, gritting her teeth in concentration. “You’re not seriously going to try healing yourself again, are you.” Disbelief laced his voice and he leaned forward. “Once in your life, accept you are human. Immortal, yes. Powerful, yes. But still human. Some immortals might forget that…” he let the remark linger in the air for a second, pictures of Dee crossing his mind, “but we’re not like that. Everybody needs help sometimes. I’m not offering help to make you feel inferior.” At first it seemed hard to say the words out loud but he realised he was speaking nothing but the truth. “Seeing you suffer makes me suffer. Helping you is helping me. You are my wife, and I love you. And no pain is ever only yours, no burden ever only yours to carry.” There was silence after his little speech, apart from the howling wind. She still wasn’t looking at him but he could see tears form in the green eyes he loved so much. “Here.” He opened his leather bag and handed her the vial. “Your magic has helped me countless times. Saved my life, even. Let my alchemy help you now. Because I love you.” He had spoken these words countless times, and they had been true every time. It was easier to speak now because he had realised now that his stubbornness wasn’t going to help them solve this and his pride wasn’t as important as their reconciliation. Perenelle finally nodded, taking the opened vial from her husband. She took a sip, having a look at the vial before taking a second one. She always made sure they split the potion of immortality evenly. The second the vial left her lips, black colour started spreading through her hair, the lines around her eyes disappeared and the bones in her arms healed together with a loud crack. The Sorceress carefully bend her elbow a few times, moving all her finger individually before wrapping her right hand into her cloak too. After he was sure his wife’s injuries were healed, Nicholas drank the potion of immortality from the vial his wife handed back to him. He had done so a hundred times, but the effect still surprised him. The second the liquid went down his throat, power and warmth spread from his heart through his body right into his fingertips. The Alchemyst put away the vial and stood up, removing ice and snow from his knees where he had kneeled on the cold ground. He held out his hands to his wife. She looked up, first at his outstretched hands, then at his face, smiling slowly. She wiped the tears away that had formed in the corner of her eyes, both from pain and relief and took his offered hands. Once she stood in front of him, Nicholas put his hands on his wife’s waist, steadying her, still aware she had been too weak to heal herself. He moved closer, wrapping his arms around her. She leaned her face against his shoulder, her hands on his chest. She breathed in and out, feeling his warmth slowly spreading through her cold fingers, his aura encircling both of them more intensely than before. When he carefully removed the end of her braid that had somehow gotten stuck on one of the clasps on her cloak and tucked it into her hood, caressing her neck, she felt like crying. “I’m sorry.” “I thought we’re not doing this now.” He repeated his wife’s own words and they may have seemed sharp, but she could feel him smiling. “I know, I know. But- I just wanted to say thank you. For everything, always. I’m aware I can be stubborn sometimes. And I’m so, so sorry I kept it from you. I-“ “I’m sorry I somehow made you feel like you had to keep it to yourself” She groaned through her tears and leaned back to look into his eyes, still in his embrace. “Stop it, I already know you’re an amazing husband. And- thank you for reminding me I’m not alone. I’m so used to dealing with problems on my own that I tend to forget I don’t have to fight the world all by myself.” “It’s alright. Let’s just go home.” They both knew that the conversation was far from over. But when her husband pulled her close again, gently placed a kiss on her forehead and took her hands in his, still warming them with the warm bands of aura energy, Perenelle wondered why she had ever thought she had to deal with her grief by herself.

**Author's Note:**

> I do recognise that the flashback scene should’ve been written in the Simple Past Perfect (as in “he had been standing” etc.) but I found it extremely annoying and disruptive to the flow of the story, so I didn’t do that. Also, there really was a blizzard in London at the time if you’re wondering.  
> The idea for this story comes from the lovely @hatshepslut who also corrected this and provided constant support, as well as the other legends on the sinf discord server. Thank y'all so much!


End file.
